


what does a menthol taste like [smokers at midnight]

by if_my_words_were_art



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Bad Writing, Cigarettes, I'm not sponsored by cigarette companies, Kissing, M/M, Strangers, also i dont smoke regularly, boring story, but if they wanna give me cash then hmu, i hate my writing, pointless writing, this is a bullshit fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 04:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17358950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/if_my_words_were_art/pseuds/if_my_words_were_art
Summary: It's all fun and games until some creepy bastard smokes with Josh.A handsome, creepy bastard.





	what does a menthol taste like [smokers at midnight]

**Author's Note:**

> if you're expecting a deep emotional conversation to occur or some sexy smut to be laid out for you, then, well, I'm sorry to dissapoint you, but that's not gonna happen. this is just a lame, why-was-this-ever-written, there-is-no-point-to-this-smelly-garbage-fest fanfiction. nevertheless, i hope you enjoy.

Josh had tasted cigarettes before. Rarely, yes, but often enough that he could recall the taste upon demand. He'd described it as dirty. Raw. Like fire and anger, with just the smallest hint of dirt. He was never much of a smoker. Truth be told, he mostly smoked to fit in. To achieve that It Crowd status. Sometimes, though, like tonight,  he would sneak out somewhere in the dark and light up a few. The cold would turn his fingers pink, the inky black of the sky would disorient him, and the cigarettes would leave a bad taste in his mouth, but he needed it, for whatever the reason.

This night was like any other. Josh was lost in his thoughts, staring blankly at the stars in the nightsky. He could see only a foot or so in front of him, partially thanks to the end of his lit cigarette. His mind flitted between various stresses: his job, his schooling, his family, his non-existent love life, etc. He didn't even notice the stranger that walked up beside him until he heard their lighter flick.

He let out a startled gasp, straining to see who the stranger was. In the moonlight, Josh could only make out minimal features, each drawn in a sharp line of luminescent light. The silhouette gave a soft throat clearing, and Josh, frozen, turned his gaze away from the figure, trying to steady his breath.

"Come here often?"

_(Seriously?)_

Josh forced a smile. "Yeah. I guess so."

And then, being a polite idiot who doesn't realize  that talking to strangers iN THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING NIGHT IS A BAD IDEA, says, "You?"

"Sometimes, yeah. Never seen you hear before."

Very carefully, Josh listened to the stranger's cadence, analyzing every rough patch,  and gravelly tone, trying to detect even the slightest hint of malice. Josh, partially relieved, could find no indication the man next to him was going to mug and murder him. _Maybe he's just a lonely creep,_ Josh reasoned. _There are plenty of them._

Realizing that his cigarette was nearly out, and that his chance to respond had ended, Josh gave a short, forced laugh, and started, "Well, I should g--"

"Want a cigarette?" the voice interrupted. "It's a Menthol."

Curious, he inquired, "What does a Menthol taste like?"

He could practically feel the figure smirk. "Want to find out?"

Reluctantly, Josh nodded, briefly wondering if the stranger could even see his headshake. Evidently, he could, because a second later a cigarette was being shoved into his hand, followed by the flick of a lighter. Josh took the 0.5 seconds of light to examine the stranger's feautures. He was surprised to see that the man wasn't a homeless junkie or a disfigured axe murderer, but was in fact someone around his age. A handsome someone around his age.

Damn, Josh thought to himself. I should've been kinder.

His thoughts rapidly spiraled into improbable  (yet hopeful) situations. _What if he just kissed me?_ he thought to himself. _Right here, right now, under the stars, next to the cricket chorus? What if, instead of giving me a cigarette, he stepped closer, close enough so I can't escape the smoke, can't escape him, and just kissed me? Right on the lips, wet, tasting like Menthols? Would I kiss him back? Would I scream? Would I resist?_

_No. I'd give in._

"So? What does a Menthol taste like?" the stranger asked.

Josh's thoughts evaporated instantly, save for the self-critiscizing ones. He quickly took a puff, studying its flavor.

Mint, obviously. Ice fire. Chipped porcelain.

"Good," Josh replied. "Thanks."

"Anytime."

And just like that, the mysterious smoker gave a quiet goodbye and started off in a different direction, leaving Josh inquisitive and giddy.

 

Josh came to a formal decision after that night: he's only smoking Menthols now.

**Author's Note:**

> hey y'all. i know i haven't been on here in awhile. I've just been really busy fighting this asshole called depression, and this other asshole called the American education system, so I've just been too overwhelmed to write anything. i want to try to be more proactive, though, so do expect more writing from me in the future. thanks for reading/supporting me :))
> 
> \--emo vent concludes--


End file.
